


Dallas Winston Doesn't Feel

by 0101Binaries01010



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:01:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25235110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0101Binaries01010/pseuds/0101Binaries01010
Summary: Dallas Winston Doesn't FeelRead the tagsI hate this fic but I wrote it to get over writers block so it is what it is.
Kudos: 11





	Dallas Winston Doesn't Feel

Dallas Winston learned from a young age that if he blocked out his emotions, it became easier to live life. His dad hadn't shown any emotion for as long as he had been alive, he thought that it made him a 'sissy'. 

New York was tough if you were poor. There wasn't much to eat and not enough money to go around, so people turned to join gangs in hopes of finding food and shelter, even if the risk of getting caught doing something illegal was high, people would do anything to get off of the cold, dark streets. If you didn't join a gang, then you were probably working a job as a prostitute, that's what his mom did. She'd sell her body at the end of the street corner while my dad got drunk off his ass. I didn't know what my mom did as a living for a long time, though. She was very secretive and embarrassed about her job. I only found out when she got sick and she couldn't work anymore. We took her to the doctor when she wasn't getting better and we found out she had lung cancer. I decided that I would drop out of school and try and get a job, but no one hires kids, so I turned to stealing. I wasn't great at stealing things, so when I tried to steal medicine my mom needed, I got caught. After I got out after a week in jail, she got worse, she hadn't lasted six months after I got out of jail. She left us a small sum of money which went towards alcohol. Around this time my dad and I started arguing more, he eventually kicked me out and I was left to the streets where a gang picked me up, the promised food and shelter so I agreed. Oh, how much of a mistake that was.

It wasn't until much later did I finally see my dad again. I was almost twelve by that time and my dad kicked me out when I was ten. He came to me asking where I had been and what was I doing, and I told him the basics, that I joined a gang and that I didn't plan on coming home. He nearly whooped me right then and there, but some of my buddies were standing behind me ready to jump in if need be. He just told me to come back and that he missed me, which was complete bullshit but I didn't even question it, I missed my own bed. 

When I got back to the house, I was dragged into my old bedroom and whooped so bad that I couldn't get up for a week straight; I had to crawl everywhere. My dad was too busy getting drunk to care, and if he did care, then he was probably in the mood to beat me. During that time, I wondered if my gang missed me, surely the would've come to check on me, but they never did. Later I learned that they had replaced me already with a new boy who had a much better build than I had. Maybe that was the problem, I wasn't strong enough. 

I started working out after that, and after the results started showing up slower, I started starving myself. It was hell for the first few weeks, I was always exhausted and cold, my stomach hurt so bad and my new gang didn't care much. It got to the point where I didn't eat at all, I just fasted for as long as I could and then broke it with a piece of bread or a pop. This went on for a few years until my gang, which apparently cared a lot for me, decided to check me into rehab. I hated it there, everyone was so judgy 'cause I was the only guy there and I didn't look like I needed to be there yet because I only weighed ninety pounds. So, I did what I had to do, I ate everything that was given to me and I complied with the rules. Within a month I was outta there. But when I got out, the gang wouldn't let me go a week without weighing myself, so I had to keep eating or else I would go back into the rehab center. So, I turned to the next best thing, I cut myself. 

It started off as just some small cuts, just barely drawing blood, but it wasn't enough. I got sharper blades and found better techniques so I cut deeper. It wasn't about the pain, it was about the control and seeing the blood slowly seep down my thighs. The gang never found out. 

________

One day, I decided that I had enough of New York and moved to Tulsa where my dad was. I didn't like my dad at all but I had gotten taller and stronger over the years so I was certain that I could defend myself. When I got to Tulsa, I didn't know what to do. I knew that I had to find my dad, but I didn't know which house he was in or what his address was. Hell, I didn't even know his phone number. So, I just asked around 'Hey, have you seen this guy Will Winston? He's about six foot and has a strong build.' One day, I found him walking down the sidewalk, he was obviously drunk and so I asked him where he was headed and he slurred out the address and I took him there. I got lucky that he told me his house address instead of a bar address since in New York he would go around bar hopping until he dropped. 

I thought he would've gotten better, but he didn't. He was still the same old' dad. Never caring for his son and wishing that he was gone; Out of his hands. He said it would be better if I just left. I was tempted to, but I didn't want to go back to New York. I didn't want to go back to poverty and shoot outs. So, I stayed. I got a few friends, Two-Bit Mathews, Johnny Cade, Sodapop Curtis, Ponyboy Curtis, Darry Curtis, Steve Randle, and Tim Shepard. None of them liked me, but they choose to stick around me, so I choose to stick around them. The 'Gang' as Ponyboy called it, we're all incredibly close when I got to Tulsa and they were very wary about letting people into their friend group, but they let me in for some reason or another that I'll never know. 

I like this new gang, they treat me with respect and they don't question my past, so I don't tell them about it. Sometimes I'll catch one of the boys giving me strange looks but I shrug it off, knowing that it's probably because I act more like a robot than I do human.

One day, we were all sitting in the Curtis household when Two-Bit asked a question, "Hey Dal, why don't you ever laugh or anythin'? You don't show emotion at all and it freaked out Darry a little when ya got here." Said the wisecrack, and I just shrugged in response, I didn't know how to explain the answer to that question without the end result always ending bad, so I just feigned it off as me not caring. 

"It's a good strategy for poker and fighting. If you don't have a reaction in poker than there's a better chance of you winning. If you don't show a reaction in a fight, it throws off your opponent." I said calmly, staring straight at the T.V. that was playing Mickey Mouse for whatever reason. 

"So Dallas Winston doesn't feel, huh?" Two-Bit said, breaking out in his stupid grin.

"Sure, you could say that." I deadpanned back. 

"So, what happened in New York that made you this way?" Two-Bit pushed on, which made me angry, doesn't he know when to shut his trap?

"I watched a guy get killed and I went to jail for the first time at 10. My mom died, too. She was real nice, nicer than my dad." I said while hoping that that was enough of an answer for the redhead. 

"Really?" said Two-Bit

"Yes, really. She died of cancer. Now would you shut your trap? I don't wanna talk about New York, there's a reason why I moved." I said, tired of him pushing himself into my life. 

_______

While walking back to my house, I thought about what Two-Bit said, that I didn't feel. I started to accept the title. 

Dallas Winston Didn't Feel


End file.
